Friendly Foes
by Penelope Jadewing
Summary: It started with a stowaway - a blood Nightray that accused Cardinal Jack Vessalius of all people of treachery! Next thing Oz knows, he's abducted from his father's ship by the Baskerville pirates, and brought aboard the Black Chain. But as new details unfold, Oz discovers there's more to this than meets the eye, and his father isn't as benevolent as he seems... Pirate AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an AU story, with references to the canon universe. No definite pairings, aside from possible Break/Sharon, Glen/Lotti, and Jack/Lacie. Reviews are appreciated! :D Let me know what you think!**

**Chapter One**

"Your Eminence!"

Oz lifted his head at the sound of his father's title, and hurriedly clamped the golden compass pocket watch shut as two of the sailors dragged a struggling form into the cabin. A youth, by the looks of it; he couldn't be much older than Oz himself, perhaps by a year – sixteen, maybe? Scruffy, jaw-length sandy hair flailed as the boy lurched backward in the sailors' hold, but to no avail. He was dressed rather modestly in a loose cotton shirt and burgundy breeches and tall black boots, but the golden family crest that hung on a tassel on his scabbard spoke of his noble birth, and perhaps living. Unless, of course, he'd stolen it…

Behind the desk, his valet Gilbert behind him, Cardinal Jack Vessalius rose slowly to his feet, cocking his head at the strange interruption, but certainly not upset. It took a lot to upset Oz's father… "What do we have here, gentlemen?"

"We caught him hiding away in the galley, Your Eminence. A stowaway!"

The sailors shoved the stranger to his knees, and the lad growled through his teeth, but lifted his gaze to glare at Jack. Oz's eyes widened at the intensity of those eyes – blue as the sea sky on the clearest of days – that seemed mildly familiar. Jack, on the other hand, as well as Gilbert, seemed to know right away who it was, and the characteristic leisurely smile crossed Jack's face, lighting up his emerald gaze.

"Ah, what a surprise! This, I really didn't expect! Imagine – a blood Nightray on the Vessalius barquentine? Tsk, tsk; what will your family say?"

Oz jerked his gaze back to the stranger with wide eyes and a stifled gasp. A blood Nightray? An honest to goodness Nightray? Imagine, seeing one in person like this! Suddenly, the tension in the room seemed all the more exciting.

The Nightray spat on the wooden floor, and snarled up at Jack. "Scum – I'm here to stop you!"

Jack wasn't fazed in the least, though Gilbert fidgeted behind his master's chair. Jack just laughed. "Stop me? In heaven's name, from doing what?"

This only seemed to further agitate the youth, and he lunged toward the Cardinal, only to be jerked violently back by the sailors. "You know very well what, you traitor! You're a disgrace to your country!"

Jack laughed harder. "Imagine, a blood Nightray calling _me _a traitor! That is rich!"

"Shut up! I'll unearth your plot soon enough, and then the whole world is going to know what a liar you are, Vessalius! You are going to rue the day you crossed my family!"

Shaking his head, Jack waved to the sailors. "You'll have a hard time unearthing anything, my good lad, from the brig. Take him away."

The youth's eyes widened as the sailors hoisted him to his feet, and dragged him toward the door. He recovered just as they were about to haul him out, and began thrashing again, more vehemently than before. "No, you can't do this! You don't have a right!"

Jack chortled. "Of course I do! You're stowing away on my ship; be grateful I don't make you walk off of it."

Even after the sailors shut the door to the cabin, Oz could still hear the Nightray shouting all the way across the deck, until he guessed they went below to the galley, and the brig, and the voice finally grew so distant, he could barely hear it anymore. Then, he glanced to his father and valet, the former of which had lounged back in his chair once more, straightening his roomy scarlet sleeves while Gilbert had his hands on the back of the chair.

"Ahhh…" Jack sighed, staring at the maps strewn about his desk. "…That was exciting, wasn't it, Oz?"

Oz picked his charcoal back up, nodding before making a few more strokes on the parchment (he had been drawing a picture of the whale they had seen just yesterday for his mother). "Yes, father… I've never actually met a Nightray before. Besides Gilbert, of course… But that doesn't really count, since he was only adopted." At this, Gilbert looked down at the floor; of course, he wasn't a Nightray any longer, since the Vessalius house had taken him back, forgiven him of his desertion. But still, he had to be embarrassed at his former family's history. And current actions…

Jack smiled at him, gesturing at the door with his hands. "Well, now you have. What do you think?"

Oz looked to the door as well, replaying the scene over in his mind. The ungraceful entrance, the sailors' rough treatment, those fiery cobalt eyes that burned so brightly, and the voice that spoke volumes of courage in addressing France's Cardinal so disrespectfully…

"He seemed to dislike you quite a lot," Oz said finally, meekly, staring down at the parchment. When he chanced to lift his eyes, his anxiety quieted at seeing his father smiling. Though, of course, how could he have expected less? Jack Vessalius always smiled. Oz hoped he could do the same in his life. Smile, no matter what bad was going on around him.

"Yes, he did, didn't he?" Jack lifted his chin, looking quite regal. "A shame; I didn't do anything to him."

Oz cocked his head. "Do you know his name?"

"Not at all," Jack said, shaking his head. "Not that it matters; a Nightray is a Nightray, and a Nightray is a traitor. They're all the same, when it comes right down to it. We'll deal with him when we drop anchor in Portsmouth, eh? Don't let him spoil the rest of our voyage."

"Of course not, father." Oz then, hoping to get back to his drawing, lowered his head again, grateful when Jack said no more. By the time he finished the whale's splashing figure, orange light had begun to stream through the cabin's grand window bay. Finished with his maps, Jack stood, and straightened his cap, waving away Gilbert's fussing.

"Well, then," the man said, smiling at his son, "the day is old; I'm going to see what's afoot, and then we can turn in. Prepare for bed; I'll be back in a minute or two. Come along, Gilbert!"

Oz folded the parchment, and slipped it inside his journal, the pages of which had been inked with his latest entry, of the bold stranger found stowing away on the _Cardinal's Grace_. "Yes, father."

After his father and valet disappeared out onto the deck, Oz slipped his journal under his mattress, and then changed into his bedclothes. He watched and waited for the sun to disappear beyond the waves on the horizon, and then shuffled over by its last waning rays to light the lantern. He had just crawled into his cot and pulled the blanket up to his neck when Jack, and only Jack, returned. Without a word, the man grabbed his own nightclothes, and stepped behind the dressing wall to change. When he emerged again, dressed for bed, he went over to the wardrobe, and hung his scarlet robe and set his cap on its wooden head for the night.

Jack approached Oz's cot, and touched his forehead, smiling softly. "Good night, my son. May you have sweet dreams."

Oz smiled back. "Good night, _papa'_."

Then Jack crossed the room to his own cot, and disappeared under the blankets. Silence became master of the seas, save for the splash of the waves against the hull that sounded so distant in the night, though it was only yards away.

Oz was sure that hours passed, and he still could not sleep. He watched his father's breaths even long into the night, and even that comforting steady rhythm could not lull him into slumber. Finally, with a glance at his pocket watch to confirm the time – 11 o' clock! – he swiveled his feet, placing them on the floor. Slowly, he stood, and tiptoed toward the door, grabbing the lantern on his way. One of the floorboards creaked loudly in the silence, and Oz flinched, glancing over to his father's cot.

Jack Vessalius didn't move.

Still holding his breath, Oz scurried for the door, and slipped out onto the deck, trying to remember where all the creaky boards were and managing to avoid a few. In the deepness of the night outside, and the vastness of open space all around the ship, the lantern's light seemed so very small.

Oz kept to the wall, peeking out from behind barrels and crates and other cargo whenever the watchmen passed by. He didn't want to be noticed; not tonight. Not with the destination in mind that he had. Several times, he was sure the watchmen saw him, but he supposed that all the time aboard his father's ship was paying off at last. He managed to reach the door to below deck, and lifted it open near silently. One of the hinges creaked, though, and Oz froze.

"Are you whistling again?" called one watchman to another. Across the deck, the other shook his head, lifting his lantern.

"No! You told me to shut up!"

"Yeah, I did… Must've been hearing things."

"Again!"

"Oi, shut it!"

Without wasting time to hear the rest of their argument, Oz slipped below deck, holding his lantern ahead of him.

The galley was empty, and dark. Oz bypassed it quickly, and then paused at the next doorway. The cot room, where all the mates slept. He could hear Cook snoring even from here! On the other side, he could see the door that would take him into the brig.

He moaned quietly, and then tried looking for the quickest, quietest way through. Any way he tried, he would have to pass by several of the ship's finest. He sighed; he would just have to be silent.

The trek across the room was agonizing! He had to pass Mr. Hands, George Wiley, Henry the Bull, even Gilbert in his cot… Some of the finest sailors France had to offer, and perhaps some of the most dangerous men in the country, and he had to sneak past them, for what? Just to meet one lousy prisoner!? Was it really worth it?

When Oz reached the door at last, felt the adrenaline in his veins, he looked back at the room he had crossed, and couldn't help but grin.

Yes, it was.

He crept into the pitch dark brig; thankfully, the door wasn't locked. Only the cell would be, and he didn't need into it. Holding the lantern aloft, he proceeded forward until the light finally caught the figure of the ship's only prisoner.

The boy had been chained to the post as well as locked in the cell, which meant they really wanted to keep him here. Curious, indeed! He had his head leaned back against the post that held him secure, and his eyes closed. But as soon as Oz's feet shuffled on the floor, those eyes flashed open, and those shoulders went rigid. The Nightray drew his feet closer to him, as if he wanted to stay as far away from Oz as he could. Undeterred, Oz set the lantern down, and sat cross-legged on the floor just outside the cell. He offered the Nightray a smile.

"Hullo!" he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to where the mates slept. "I saw you today, in my father's cabin; did you really stow away?"

The Nightray closed his eyes again with a 'tch'. "If I hadn't, do you think I would be here?"

"Well…" Oz shrugged. "I guess not. My name is Oz; what's yours?"

"I'm not telling you my name."

A frown spoiled Oz's grin. "Why not?"

"Because you're a Vessalius."

That didn't make sense. Did it? "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're the Cardinal's son, and that makes you as bad as he is." The stranger wouldn't look at Oz when he spoke. That only made Oz frown harder.

"Bad? How do you know my father?"

"I know _of _him, and that's enough. I hate him, and all you Vessalius trash."

Oz raised his eyebrows, surprised at this stranger, who he had never met, and his ferocity. How could someone who didn't even know him or his father hate them? It made no sense; wouldn't he even give them a chance? "But… why?"

The Nightray scowled. "Because you're all traitors! Traitors to France, and to the crown! One day, someone is going to expose you for what you really are, and that person is going to be me!"

"Unless you're hanged in England?" Oz deadpanned, to which the stranger actually paled a bit. "Being a stowaway is a capitol offense; my father won't hesitate with proper judgment."

"W-Well… O-Of course he won't! He's cruel, and unmerciful, and completely unbefitting to lead the Church!"

Oz laughed, but it was dry and without humor. "Well, you obviously don't know my father. He's a good man! The best there is! He's kind and good, and everyone loves him! All this talk of being cruel and unmerciful is rich coming from you! You're a Nightray, right? If I'm correct, _you're _family was the one rumored to be traitors!"

"Lies, all of it!" the Nightray spat, eyes alight in the glimmer of the lantern. "My family would never turn against the crown!"

Oz gave the stranger a hard look. "I've heard that the Nightrays are heartless and untrustworthy! That's why there were stripped of their titles among the dukes!"

"SHUT UP!" the Nightray yelled, and Oz suddenly looked back, hoping none of the sailors had heard. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Well, neither do you when you talk about my father like that! So maybe you should think about what you say before you say it!" Oz hissed, and the Nightray drew back, surprised.

"Will you tell me your name?" Oz pressed, but the Nightray shook his head.

"No!"

"Then-"

_BOOM_! The entire ship shuddered, and somewhere on board, wood cracked and splinted, and crashed some more. Oz clapped his hands over his ears, feeling the ship lurch in the water, and hating how it rocked. When he opened his eyes and removed his hands, he heard men shouting, and lots of them; he glanced to the porthole, and saw the glimmer of orange light on the water, lantern light and fire, and a hulking shadow looming close by.

Another ship.

Oz jumped to his feet, and over a cacophony of noise from outside, heard someone calling his name. Gilbert!

"I'm here!" Oz called back, rushing to the brig's door. Gilbert staggered up from the floor, spotting Oz from the middle of the cot room, and waved frantically.

"Quickly! Come with me; you must get back to your quarters!"

"PIRATES!" someone above deck yelled, and then the loud clomp of boots on the deck sounded. The rest of the mates below deck jumped to their feet, and drew their cutlasses before rushing out the door; Gilbert had a time trying not to get swept away with them, and managed to latch onto Oz's arm as he drew close. The black-haired man pulled Oz ahead, and up the steps onto the deck, where Oz saw a sight he'd never forget.

A massive dark ship had pulled broadside the _Grace_, and men in raggedy clothes were leaping off its masts onto the sails of the Cardinal's ship, grabbing hold of ropes, and rappelling down to join their comrades that were already aboard the ship. Oz could tell immediately who the pirates were, and who were his father's crew – all the pirates wore capes of blood red, and fought with the grace and deadly accuracy of the ancient Samurai.

"Quickly!" Gilbert said above the noise, and drew his sword to defend his charge while they rushed across the deck. Only when the valet was knocked aside by a flying body did Oz slide to a halt, and glance back.

A boy! Gilbert had been deterred by a mere boy! Perhaps as tall as Oz was himself, with long dark hair that hung over his shoulders with sprigs that stuck out in unruly directions and glinted reddish-violet in the torchlight, and golden rings in the one ear that Oz could see, the youth lashed out at the surprised Gilbert with a force that made Oz flinch. Gilbert blocked the boy's strike, and stared with awe.

"Leo!?" Gilbert yelped, only to jump backward again as this 'Leo' continued to strike.

"Sorry, Gil!" the pirate said with a small smirk. "But I believe you have something that we want! Something that doesn't belong to you!"

Gil's eyes widened further, and he again parried the younger's blow, before glancing to Oz. "Master Oz! Go back to your quarters, NOW!"

Oz shook himself aware again, and turned on his heel, making a mad dash across the last stretch of deck between he and his father's cabin. He was almost there!

Something caught his hair, and wrenched him backward, off his feet. He cried out, but barely before an arm snaked around his throat, and dragged him to the ship's edge. With one hoist, his feet dangled over the open space between the two ships, and a single voice shouted over the raging battle.

"GLEN, STOP!"

_Father! Help me, please! _He begged and pleaded in his mind, but with the arm around his neck, he could scarcely breathe, much less speak. The arm around his throat loosened only a bit, and the body of the person holding him turned slightly.

"Ahh… Jack, there you are. It's been a long while; how have you been faring?"

"I'd fare much better if you put down my son, Glen."

Glen chuckled, and Oz felt the rumble of his chest on his back, and shuddered. He didn't like that chuckle. "You know I can't do that. Not until we get what we came for."

"We have no spoils, Glen! We're on an envoy mission to England; I'm sure you're aware of this."

"You're a liar, but it's not spoils that I want. Not this time. You have a more valuable cargo on board; something… living. Breathing. Someone quite important to us."

Oz tried to stretch his eyes to look over; he could barely glimpse his father, beside the cabin door, eyes wide and glistening in the firelight. The battle had come to a standstill, blades still drawn and ready to resume at any moment the order was given. The boy called Leo had disarmed Gilbert, and left the valet at Jack's side, with both blades – Leo's, and his own – pointed at him.

Jack's eyes went wider. "The Nightray? You can't be serious! You nearly sink my ship, slaughter my men, and threaten to drown my son, all for the Nightray!?"

Glen nodded. "Yes, actually. Now, if you would please?"

"I'll get him, Glen-sama!" Leo prodded Gilbert with the point of his own blade. "Where's the brig? If I know you, that's where you've put him."

Gilbert glanced to Jack, who nodded quickly, and then Gil pointed across the deck. "Through the galley and the bunker; the keys…" Gilbert then fished with trembling hands along his belt, gaze drawn incessantly to Oz just as Jack's was, before he handed the key ring to Leo. The young pirate examined the ring, nodded, and then sprinted over to the stairs leading below deck.

Only a moment or two passed before Leo emerged again, this time behind the previously imprisoned Nightray, who held Gilbert's sword. The Nightray came out looking like he was ready for anything, especially a fight, and seemed taken aback by the standstill.

Jack reacted immediately, squaring a hard gaze at the pirate leader. "There – you have your Nightray, now give me back my son!"

Glen seemed to hesitate, tilting his head, but not releasing Oz. "Mmm… Yes, I did say I would, didn't I… Men, return to the _Chain_. We're done here."

The pirates were even silent in their retreat, and Oz held his breath as they departed, leaping back to their own deck and disappearing into darkness with their newly freed prisoner. Soon, Glen was the only one left.

"Let him go, Glen! Now!" Jack ordered, done with games. But Glen still did not release him. Oz peered down at the water lurking below, and swallowed hard.

"I know you, Jack Vessalius," Glen said, louder than before. "I know you quite well… We were friends once, you and I; but… you are so treacherous… And I can't have you sending my ship to Davy Jones as soon as I let your precious son go."

At the same moment, identical emerald eyes widened, and Gilbert jumped forward, but too late. Jack yelled. "Glen, NO!"

But Glen had already taken the massive leap onto his ship, with his arm still looped about young Oz Vessalius' neck. He landed with a thump, and didn't even hesitate a second.

"Cut the ropes! Loose all sails, and hard to port! Get us away from that ship, and fast! We need to evade her guns!"

The pirates reacted immediately, and within seconds, the pirate ship had pulled forward, even as the _Grace_'s cannons fired, however pitifully. Jack was trying to cripple the ship. Still, the idea of going down with the pirates terrified Oz, and he tried as he might to loosen the grip about his neck.

"Let me go!" he croaked, clawing at the arm that held him. "I can't…"

"Leo!" Glen twisted his arm, and threw Oz forward onto the deck. "Take him below; not to the brig, but keep an eye on him. Give him a bit of bread, and then show him his new cot for the time being… He won't try anything, if I know Jack at all."

A thin hand gripped his arm, and Oz staggered to his feet to meet mellow violet eyes of the boy that had disarmed Gilbert. In the darkness, his appearance looked menacing, but the soft light in those eyes… looked nothing like a pirate. Leo offered a weak smile.

"Come on; you're going to be staying with us for a while…"

Oz tried to look back, but the Nightray blocked his view with a scowl on his face. That night, Oz didn't even get a good look at his kidnapper before he was led below deck, fed, shown his cot, and left to sleep. But both Leo and the Nightray remained in the doorway of the bunker, and didn't move. Their silhouettes were the last thing Oz remembered before a restless slumber claimed him prey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Thump! _"Gah!"

Oz's sleep was rudely disturbed by an impact with a hard wood floor. He opened his eyes to find his cheek pressed against the planks, and his blond hair hanging in his face. Through the curtain of golden locks, he could see a pair of black boots. Raggedy black boots, and red-brown breeches, nothing like his father's guards.

And then he remembered. Where he was, and why. And that sent him shooting upright like a sprung mousetrap. The person standing above him was laughing.

"You're not much of a sailor, are you?" said a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice, and Oz peered up into the face of the Nightray. Then he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I am too!" he cried, indignant. His rude awakening was forgotten. "I go with my father on voyages to Rome all the time!"

"Then I'll wager you've never slept on a real cot; it's probably been all mattresses and feather pillows for you." The boy leaned his weight back on his heels, and folded his arms with a haughty air. Oz scrambled to his feet, getting tired of this guy's holier-than-thou attitude.

"Stop talking like you're better than me!" he spat, glaring up at the other. "Not too long ago, you were a noble too, until you forfeited that honor by consorting with traitors!"

The Nightray's face twisted with rage, and he raised a hand, ready to backhand Oz. "Why you little-!"

"Elliot!"

The new voice made the Nightray – or 'Elliot', it would seem – freeze, and his flattened hand balled into a fist as he clenched his jaw. Oz peered over his shoulder to the door, where in the streaming sunlight, a figure was silhouetted. The figure stepped forward, and Oz found it to be Leo, the young pirate from the night previous. In the light, Oz could discern more details from his appearance.

Leo wore matching pairs of earrings, two different rings on each ear. Had he been a slave at one time? Long ragged black bangs hung in his eyes, which were also now shielded by a pair of eyeglasses that hadn't been there before. His red cloak hung on one shoulder and the hem wafted down at his knees, about where the tops of his boots came. A shirt lined with silk, striped leggings, and a wide-brimmed hat adorned with numerous feathers completed an image of pirate royalty, much more extravagant than what the Nightray wore.

"Glen-sama wants him unspoiled," said Leo, striding up. Oz expected him to walk with an air of confidence with all his regality, but he didn't. Instead, he appeared quite the normal fellow. "He'll detain you if you can't control your temper."

"Ohhhh… So your name is Elliot!" Oz said with slow, sly deliberation. To which Elliot just scowled even more, and gave him a withering look. Then, the Nightray turned to Leo.

"He's a prisoner," he muttered darkly. "A prisoner of war, if you want to be technical."

Leo just shook his head. "He may be a prisoner, but he's also our guest. And he's to be treated as such."

As Elliot turned away with a glower and folded arms, Leo looked at Oz, and Oz was surprised to see a welcome smile on the pirate's face.

"Sorry about him," he said, jabbing a thumb backwards at Elliot. "He's just, ah… well…" Leo glanced over at the taller boy. "A Nightray."

Elliot glared daggers at him, but Oz managed to smile. "They're all like that, then?"

Leo nodded. "Yes, they were."

Were? Oz frowned, and opened his mouth to ask, but Leo cut him off.

"Come up on deck; you got to sleep in today, but around here, we get up with the sun. You'll have to get used to that. On this ship, no matter who you are, you're expected to earn your keep." Leo turned on his heel, and marched for the stairs. Oz, glancing at Elliot, hurried to follow.

"So, you mean if I slack off, you'll throw me off the ship or something?" he asked, and Leo chuckled.

"No. If you slack off, you don't eat."

Oz paused in the middle of the stairs. Oh. So, there went his theory. He glanced down at his feet, and with horror, realized he was still in his nightclothes from yesterday. He froze, and watched Leo disappear above deck, with the brilliant blue morning sky looming above him, making it seem like he walked right into thin air.

Someone shoved his shoulder, and Oz stumbled forward onto the next step, sending a glare back at Elliot, who even in his irritation, smirked at Oz's fall. "Get moving, Shorty. What's the hold up?"

Oh, Oz just wanted to sock him in the face right about now. But the stairs weren't the best place for a fight. Neither was a pirate ship that had come all this way just to rescue this audacious snob. He scrambled up the stairs, and blinked at the glaring sunshine that greeting him onto the spar deck. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw that numerous pirates already bustled about the deck. Some scaled the shrouds to adjust the sails, others tightened the riggings; one far ahead by the rail swabbed the forecastle deck, and another watched with a green bottle in his hand. All of them wore their capes like banners, though some had tied them up to keep them out of the way.

"Ah, good morning, Oz."

Oz whirled around and looked up, where Glen stood on the quarter deck, leaning on the railing and looking down with a smile that looked surprisingly quite friendly. Oz blinked, staring up at the pirate captain.

"Uh… good morning?"

The captain looked very similar to Leo, actually. They shared the same soft violet eyes that Oz never would have imagined on a fierce pirate, and dark hair, though Glen's was shorter, and straighter, and neater. Perhaps the two were related? Glen wore his red cloak about both shoulders, and his was longer, reaching to his ankles, and draping over about half his front. With his elbows leaned on the rail, Oz could only see the white lace lining his dark maroon cuffs, and the black leather gloves that covered his hands. His breeches were the lightest thing he wore at a rich beige, but their color was brought to an end by knee-high black boots.

"How did you know my name?" Oz asked the man; he didn't recall anyone on the ship saying it… Oh, wait. Gilbert did. But could Glen have heard it?

"Leo told me."

Leo? Oh… right. He was fighting with Gilbert when the valet yelled his name in the order to go back to the cabin.

Glen straightened, and sauntered over to the stairs that led down to the main deck, keeping a hand on the rail as he descended with the poise of a noble. When he stood before Oz, the Vessalius had no doubt left that Glen was somehow related to Leo. Their eyes… almost identical. But Glen looked more… tired. Melancholy. Yet kind, whenever he smiled. Kind of like Oz's father, only more somber.

"Where am I?" Oz asked meekly, stunned by surprise. He'd expected Glen, as a pirate captain, to be sinister and crude and roguish. But aside from the ragged clothing and infamous name, this man looked and acted like a duke.

Glen looked about the deck, squinting against the sun. "You are aboard the _Black Chain_, our humble ship."

"And who is 'our'?"

Glen chuckled. "We are the Baskervilles. Well…" The man glanced over Oz's shoulder, to where Oz knew Elliot and Leo were standing. "Most of us."

The… B-Baskervilles? Forget the Nightrays' rumors of treachery, the Baskervilles _did _betray the king! They tried to kill him! They were once one of the most powerful dukedoms in all of France before they were exiled for their crimes. No wonder Glen looked so refined! He _was _once a duke! Each and every Baskerville known to the French government had a massive price on their head! So that's what Glen meant when he said 'we were once friends' to Jack… Jack discovered their plot to kill the king, and foiled it! He was forced to betray his friendship to protect France. Just like a storybook!

"I see you have heard of us." Glen's voiced brought Oz back to the present, and he refocused on the man's face, which now looked more tired than before.

"Well, yes…" Oz began slowly. "You're infamous legends!"

"Ah, yes… Legends are… funny things, aren't they?" Glen's gaze grew distant, and he shook his head to himself. "Come; meet the crew."

"But… I'm a Vessalius," said Oz, confused and hesitating. "My father turned you in; he… betrayed you." Oz didn't really look at it that way, but he was sure that's how Glen saw it. And when Glen froze, shoulders going tense, Oz knew he had it right.

Glen glanced back, and Oz had to take a step back, as he could almost feel the sorrow radiating from the noble figure. "Yes… your father did." Glen stared at nothing in particular, before he raised his violet eyes to meet Oz's green ones. "But you are not your father, now, are you? Not yet."

Glen… didn't hate him? Oz stared with wonder. It didn't make sense; Glen had more reason to hate him than Elliot did, yet he didn't?

Glen turned back to face Oz, and spoke quietly. "While you are on my ship, you are my guest. I do not wish to bring you harm; we are returning to France to take you home. All right? You don't have to worry."

Such kindness in those eyes… Nothing at all like Oz imagined the infamous pirate to be. Oz nodded, assured by the earnestness he saw in Glen's face. Then Glen smiled again.

"Good. Now, let me introduce you."

Glen lifted a hand and beckoned at Leo and Elliot, who both came over to join them. "You've met Elliot and my son, Leo."

Oh! Son! That made sense. Leo offered Oz a smile that Oz couldn't help but return. Leo shared his father's meek smile. Elliot just scowled, and avoided Oz's gaze. Bah; let him be Mr. Grumpy. Oz had a feeling that he'd just made some new friends, on a pirate ship of all places.

"So, Elliot's… a Nightray, _and _a Baskerville?" Oz asked as they cross the deck.

Glen shook his head. "No; though we would gladly accept him into our ranks, he vehemently states that he is a Nightray, and he will not change that."

"So why'd you go through all the trouble to rescue him?"

"We consider him like family, here. We misfits stick together."

Misfits… He called them misfits, not outlaws… Curious. Oz followed as Glen took them across the forecastle, to the prow, where a red-caped figure adorned with pink bows and long, draping pink hair stood, gazing at the sky.

"Oz, this is Charlotte, our navigator."

_A woman navigator? _The woman turned around, and Oz's eyes widened. A _beautiful _woman navigator! Her long-lashed eyes matched her hair, pink of a darker hue, and she wore an ensemble of pinks, reds, and blacks. Her dress was too short at the skirt, and too low at the neck, though, and Oz with a blush averted his eyes to her face. Charlotte beamed a smile, and sashayed up to him, lifting his chin with a finger.

"Hullo, little boy!" she cooed, eyes glittering. "Just call me Lotti." She ruffled his hair, and looked at Glen. "Glen, he's adorable! I want one!"

Glen just rolled his eyes while Lotti pinched Oz's cheeks, much to his chagrin. He managed to grin and bear it until she let go. She rested a hand on Glen's arm briefly before going back to her rail. Oz noted the brief touch while he rubbed the feeling back into his face. He heard snickering, and shot Elliot and Leo a glare where they stood behind him. They did their best to look aloof – Leo more so than Elliot, who kept smirking at him.

Jerk.

"Glen-sama! Glen-sama!" A blur of crimson and honey-blonde latched itself to Glen's waist, and when the proverbial dust settled, Oz realized that it was a little girl, beaming a smile brighter than the moon. "I forgot your good morning hug!"

"Thank you, Lily." Glen patted the girl's head with the quiet patience of a father, and slowly tried prying her off him. "You know I love your hugs, but I am busy right now."

"Oops!" Lily jumped away from him, and blushed a bit. Nestled in her youthful face, Oz spotted vibrant blue eyes that glimmered with innocence. "Sorry, Glen-sama!"

Glen smiled softly, and gestured to Oz. "This is Oz."

Lily looked at Oz with surprised curiosity, and peered closer to him. Oz leaned away from the intrusion of his personal space. "Oh… Oz… Oh!" Then Lily began to laugh jovially, and she bounced on her heels. "You're that Vessalius kid! Hiya, hiya! I'm Lily; but you can call me Lily!" She giggled, clasping her hands behind her back. Oz blinked, and offered a bashful wave.

"Hullo…"

Lily tittered more, squeaking a bit like a mouse, before she scampered away, almost running into Elliot and Leo. She paused in front of them. "Oh, hello, Leo-sama! Elliot-kun! Good morning, good morning! Isn't it so pretty today?" She accosted each of them with a hug, and then skipped past them. Leo muttered something to Elliot, at which the Nightray flushed, and slugged Leo on the arm. Leo just laughed even as he rubbed where he'd been hit. Oz watched curiously.

By the time Glen had given him a tour of the ship, Oz met Doug at the steering wheel, and Fang, the lookout who swung down from the crow's nest just to speak to Oz face-to-face. There were a few other note-worthy Baskervilles (whose names he didn't remember well), before Glen stopped introducing people, and bid Oz good day before retiring to his quarters along with Lotti. Leo and Elliot stayed with Oz, though Elliot tried to leave and only remained because Leo made him.

Leo cast Oz a queer look. "Hm… I wonder why…"

Oz glanced his way. "Why what?"

"Well, there was one more person I thought Glen-sama would introduce you to… But he didn't. I'm just wondering why."

"Who's that?"

"A-"

"LEO!"

This time, Leo flinched, and a shadow swooped overhead. Oz looked up in time to see a blur of incoming color, and he jumped out of the way before it landed on him. The person landed agilely on their feet, and a strong fist gripped his collar.

"I told father that _I _wanted to introduce myself to him, so don't you go spoiling my fun!"

When Oz laid eyes on long brunette hair, he realized that the owner of the gruff voice was in fact a girl, and her pair of violet eyes that were now quite familiar were glaring at Leo.

Siblings.

"Ah, Oz…" Leo rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, fidgeting. "This is my sister-"

"I'm Alice, punk!" the girl yelled in his face. "And if you think you can just wander freely around my ship, you're sadly mistaken!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Uhh…" Oz stuttered, staring at the girl with wide eyes. She had her sharp violet eyes pinned on him, and her grip was like an iron vice! She, too, wore a red cloak, along with a red jacket, black skirt, and thigh-high white boots. She stomped her foot with impatience, shaking him.

"Uhh? Is that all you can say to me? Huh? Are you stupid or something?"

Oz frowned. "No!"

"Well you look stupid, stupid! What do you say to that?" She smashed one hand onto her hip, still gripping him by the collar with the other.

Oz blinked; he'd never met a single girl who behaved like this! She, perhaps, was the one person who acted like everything he thought pirates would. Loud, raucous, undignified and yet… it suited her somehow.

"Are you deaf!? HELLO!" she screamed in his ear, and he flinched, jerking away from her.

"No, I'm not deaf!" he retorted, rubbing his sore ear and wondering how long it would take to get his hearing back. "At least, I wasn't…"

"Wow, you can speak! How come you didn't answer me!? Huh!?" Folding her arms with a huff, she tilted her head to lift her pixie-ish nose in the air. She puckered her lips, and Oz found that the look flattered her.

"Because… I was just… admiring your face," Oz hurried and said, giving the pirate princess a smile to try and throw her off. It did… sorta. She frowned, giving him a curious look, while Leo stared in surprise, and Elliot facepalmed.

"What about my face?" she asked suspiciously, cocking a brow.

Oz thought a moment. "…You've got pretty eyes. And a cute nose!" He said the last bit with a good amount of embarrassing enthusiasm, purposefully, hoping it embarrassed her enough to make her back off. She didn't move, but she certainly looked shocked to hear him, a perfect stranger, say it. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she stared at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, you're making me sick…" Elliot muttered, turning away and rubbing his forehead like it hurt. Leo looked too caught off guard to react, his expression quite similar to his sister's.

"…Okay…" Alice said slowly, still looking surprised. "…I think you're weird; I've decided I don't like you! So stay out of my way, and don't even think about trying anything funny!" She pointed one rigid finger at him, and then whirled on her heel, and marched off, down onto the main deck.

Oz sighed, running a hand through his hair. Leo cleared his throat.

"Did you, uh, just… flirt with my sister?"

Oz glanced at him, eyes wide to take in the other boy's bewildered expression. He detected a slight hint of classic big brother protective instinct in Leo's voice, and offered the noire a reassuring smile.

"No. Just… pretending to?"

"Was that a question, or a statement?" Elliot deadpanned, and Oz cast him a glare.

"A statement! I was pretending to flirt so she'd leave me alone." Oz folded his own arms across his chest; he felt pretty proud of himself. His plan had worked! He'd successfully shocked a pirate girl into going away! What people could say that? Not many, he was sure!

Leo blinked, and finally tucked his fingers under his eyeglasses to rub at his eye. "Okay… that was interesting." He sighed, stared at Oz a moment, and seemed to take note of something; he smiled, chuckling lightly. "Um, here, come on. Let's get you some day clothes."

Oh, right. Oz glanced down at himself, and felt a flush on his face again. "Um… yeah. Sounds good."

Elliot snickered. "Oh, come on, Leo; it's a good look for him. Makes him look weak and innocent – like a five year old. You know what, why don't you just leave him that way?"

Five year old? Five year old!? How dare he say that! The jerk! What on earth did Oz ever do to him to make him such a… a… a jerk!? While Oz fumed, Leo shook his head, giving the Nightray a harsh glance. "I think not… Elliot. You can stay out here; cool your head while I help Oz." Leo beckoned Oz, and then headed down to the main deck, and to the door leading down below as well. They went down to the lower deck, to a compartment at the far wall that had to be right below the captain's cabin. Leo led the way in, and Oz's eyes widened at the sight of what lay within the room.

Maps and drawings covered almost every square inch of the walls, furs and carpets covered the floor, and a shelf lined one whole wall; it, and the large opulent desk across the room, were both covered to the brink with books! Books, books, books galore! Books in the corners, books on the surfaces, books overflowing onto the floor! Even the cot to the right had at least a dozen books strewn over the blankets. Leo bypassed it all and went to the decorated wooden wardrobe on the left wall; he opened the doors, and stepped back again, glancing back at Oz.

"You're about the same size as I am, so these should fit pretty well. Feel free to just pick out what you'd like; I have plenty, and probably won't miss anything." With that, Leo strode across the room to the desk, situated himself behind it, and laid a piece of parchment out over the pile of books, peering closely at it. Oz eyed him a moment, before approaching the wardrobe. The assortment of clothing inside it boggled his mind; there was something that seemed Oriental in style, another that was probably Egyptian, something Persian, and of course, a number of English, Spanish, and French styles. The payment of piracy, no doubt. He couldn't help but wonder who used to own these clothes before Leo did…

"Hey, Leo?" Oz asked after a moment, as he browsed the selection offered.

Leo glanced up. "Hm?"

"Why do you have two pairs of earrings, if I may ask?"

He seemed a bit surprised at the questioned, and it took a moment for him to answer. "…I was a slave. Two different master's…"

Oz glanced over to see the teen staring at the wall as if reminiscing.

"Who were they?" Oz prodded, hand freezing over one hanger.

Leo hesitated further before he answered again. "The first… well, I don't care to remember. She… wasn't a good person. Anyway, the second was Elliot."

Oz's eyes widened. "Elliot? As in… the guy up on deck?"

Leo chuckled, nodding. "Yes, that Elliot. I don't know of too many others. His family was looking for a servant for him, and my… previous owner wanted some quick money. So she sold me to them."

Oz leaned his shoulder against the side of the wardrobe, cocking his head with a confused frown. "But why keep both pairs of earrings?"

At this, Leo smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Reminders."

"Why would you want a reminder of the bad master?"

"When you remember bad things that have happened, you remember things you learned from them. When you remember things you learned from them, you're better prepared for whatever the future might bring you." Leo shrugged. "I keep the first pair to remind me of the difference between a good master and a bad master. Being a servant isn't a bad thing, when you serve the right person. In fact, if can be one of the best lives a person will ever live, and when you have the right master, you can be a whole lot better off for it."

Now that confused Oz. He frowned at the floor, and Leo laughed. "What's the look for?"

"So… you _liked _serving that guy?" Oz couldn't fathom why anyone would want to even be in the same house as Elliot Nightray for an extended period of time.

Leo held up his hands placidly. "Granted, he's rough on the outside. But have you ever dealt with a dog or a horse?"

Oz nodded. "We have a stable back home."

"Well, it's like that. You establish your place; let them know that while you're there for them, you're not going to just let them walk all over you, shove you around, treat you like dirt. They learn to respect you for that, and they'll back off."

"And now, _he _does what _you _tell him to?" Oz found that an ironic turn of events.

Leo laughed out loud. "Um… no. Far from it. It's more of a… mutual respect."

"So why didn't you try that with your former master?"

"…I was younger then; I thought that being a servant meant doing whatever the heck your master told you to." Leo stared down at the desk. "Besides, I was… scared. My father was a navy officer at the time, and had been gone for more than a year in Africa, and my mother had died… I was waiting until he came back, but then I heard the stories of how he'd tried to kill the king and couldn't come into France without being killed… So, yeah. Wreaked havoc on my emotional state."

Oz watched Leo closely as he asked the next question. "What changed your mind?"

"Well, obviously, my first master wasn't a good experience. By the time I was sold to the Nightrays, I figured that must be how every master is, and I was just tired of rolling over and taking what they gave me."

"And so you stood up to Elliot, and let him know where you stood."

Leo nodded. "Yep. Went over real well."

Oz's eyes widened. "Really?"

Again, the pirate laughed. "No! Not in the least! You should have seen his face. But in the end, it was good, because Elliot hates people who grovel and do everything he says without question."

_Like Gil._ Oz snickered, and went back to browsing. He picked out a loose cotton shirt, a brown vest, and some green breeches, and found some brown boots in one of the drawers.

"So, you said that you and Elliot have a mutual respect… I'm sorry, but what on earth is there to respect about him?" Oz used a free finger to close the wardrobe doors.

Leo was smiling. "You know… I could tell you; I really could. But… I'm not going to."

Oz almost dropped the clothes when he deflated, his enthusiasm sucked away. "What!? Why not?"

"Because it's something that's more fun to figure out yourself." Leo gave Oz a smug grin before standing up, walking around the desk. "There's a dressing wall there; I'll leave, and you'll just come back on deck when you're finished."

With that, Leo exited the room, closed the door, and Oz was left to himself. Oz stared at the door for a while, and then sighed, hanging his head. Too many open-ended questions… Juicy questions, like the kind you get while reading a mystery novel; the kind that you anticipate the answers with a curiosity and an 'I must know, or I'll die' sort of feeling. Slightly put out, Oz shuffled over to the dressing wall, and stepped behind it to finally change out of his bedclothes.

The new clothes fit him quite well, if he were to say so. He stepped back out from behind the dressing wall with his nightclothes hung over his arm. Just as he was heading for the door, a flash of color on Leo's cot caught his eye. A glimpse of bright sky blue, with golden embroidery.

Oz's heart leapt; he knew that design! He darted over to the cot and snatched the book up, hurrying to look at the number of the volume. His jaw dropped; where!? He whirled around, and sprinted through the door, and back up onto the deck. "LEO!"

* * *

**A/N: A little short, I know... Hey, if you readers have any ideas of what you'd like to see happen, leave a suggestion in a review! I can't guarantee if I'll use all or any of them, because I do have some ideas of my own for the plotline, but there's room for fluff and mini-adventures and such. If a suggestion clashes with upcoming twists, I won't be able to do it for sure. Anywho, hope you're enjoying the tale! Review? Oz is giving tackleglomps!**

**You can also find a drawing of pirate!Elliot, Oz, and Leo here:** ** penelopejadewing . deviantart art/ Friendly - Foes - Elliot - Oz - And - Leo - 375661128**** (without the spaces**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"By all that is holy, my lord Cardinal, what has happened!?"

Jack hated when people groveled at his feet. It was so… disgusting. Still, it was expected of him to behave like a respectable member of the Church, a man of the Cloth, and as such, others were expected to kneel before him, and kiss his Cardinal's ring. He couldn't help but wonder how things would be if he weren't the Cardinal of France…

He waited until the Englishman rose to his feet to answer. "We were accosted by pirates, not two days ago. They nearly crippled the ship… and they stole my son."

The courtier held his hands clasped in front of his chest, and shook them earnestly. "Oh, dear! I am sorry to hear about this unfortunate turn of events, Your Eminence. Is there anything to be done?"

_Get away from you, for one… _Jack sighed, running a hand over his face. This was most certainly not how he'd wanted this trip to turn out… "I must speak with the Prime Minister."

"Yes, of course!" The man gestured back, away from the docks and the ship that was already undergoing repairs, toward the cobblestone that came along the water. There, a carriage hooked to four black horses awaited them. "Please, come this way."

Gladly. Jack glanced over his shoulder, at Gilbert, and then past the valet, to where the sailors were unloading the cargo from the wounded ship – gifts to King James, the audacious man who had made himself head of State and head of the Church, as so-called offerings of extended peace. So-called. Bribery, more like it.

But for the moment, the King of Great Britain was a minor detail. The Prime Minister was the man to see; the man was famed for his knowledge, though not necessarily for his wisdom, and contrary to his position in the English church, he saw everything through skeptical, logical eyes. He would know, at least, who could help him find the Baskerville pirates.

Beckoning Gilbert to follow, the Cardinal strode over the docks onto the pavement. Gilbert stepped in front of him and opened the carriage door, allowing him to step up inside. Following behind, Gilbert then closed the door again with a _click_, and took a seat across from his master. The frame rocked once more as, Jack guessed, the driver climbed to his seat, and then came the crack of a whip. The horses squealed, and the carriage lurched forward, the wheels clacking on stone.

Normally, he would have enjoyed watching out the window with Oz as they passed the close-packed buildings and huts of Portsmouth, listening to conversations as they went by, watching the many people interact in this hub of trade and tourism; this time, had everything gone as expected, they would have been carting a stowaway to the stocks as well, which while gruesome and unfortunate, would have been interesting as well. But Oz was not here. Jack found himself clenching his fists in his lap.

Blast Glen. Blast all of them to Kingdom Come. How dare they steal Oz; why couldn't they just rob and pillage gold and jewels like every other meddlesome pirate that roamed the open seas?

He did not watch out the window. Instead, he stared over the ridge of his brow at the ceiling, watching the tassels swing as they went, imagining how he was going to make Glen pay.

Of all things to drag into their petty disputes, why a fifteen-year-old boy?

Church bells. Church bells were ringing, somewhere. They passed the source of the sound, and soon, entered into countryside. Not long after green fields appeared, they came to a large manorhouse that sat on the crest of a hill looking down on the city. The Portsmouth Parish, where he was to meet with the Prime Minister. The driver guided the horses up the drive, around the courtyard, and to the front steps. Ranks of English soldiers stood stiff as statues between the carriage and the door, forming an aisle between them for the Cardinal to walk through. As the carriage came to a rattling halt, the soldiers stood at attention, with rifles slung over their shoulders and backs ramrod straight.

Gilbert exited out the carriage door on the far side from the manorhouse, and then went around to open the door on Jack's side. Nodding a thanks to the valet, Jack stood and stepped down onto the gravel courtyard floor; he glanced at the many faces round about him, and then strode forward hastily for the front door of the parish. He didn't have time to walk slowly, to smile and nod at the soldiers like a priest should. No, not today; not with every idle second spent was one more second that Oz was exposed to the influence of the Baskervilles.

Two courtiers opened the large mahogany double doors, allowing Jack and his servant to pass through into the foyer of the massive house. Marble floors, paintings on every wall of dignitaries Jack didn't care about, tapestries and banners and sashes and ribbons adorning the ceilings and stair rails and furniture. A butler greeted them at the stairs.

"Your Eminence; please, come this way."

He led them up the stairs, to the second floor, and down the expansive hallway, to another pair of double doors, not so wide as the first, but still quite impressive. The Prime Minister's private meeting hall, no doubt. The butler opened the door, and Jack turned to address his own servant.

"Gilbert, why don't you stay here; or better, go tend to the luggage. I'm sure they'll have others to help you settle in."

Gilbert stared at him, golden eyes wide and face paler than usual. "But… Your Eminence…"

Jack forced himself to keep smiling. "That was not a suggestion… Gilbert. Go tend the luggage."

The man blinked, but then bowed at the waist. "Yes, Your Eminence." Turning on his heel, the valet strode down the hall, and disappeared back around the corner from which they came. Jack sighed, and then walked past the English butler, and entered the meeting room, which could more appropriately be called a study, by the looks of it. A fire roared in the hearth, smoke stains suggesting years of use despite the chimney. The shades were closed, casting the room in homey brown shadows. Behind an opulent desk sat the very man Jack sought.

"To the Most Honorable Prime Minister, presenting Most Illustrious and Reverend Eminence Cardinal Vessalius of France."

Jack pressed his palms together in front of his chest, and bowed reverently. "Your Excellency."

The man behind the desk rose slowly, and walked around to the front, his lengthy red hair like an elbow-long cape at his back. Steely grey eyes settled on the Cardinal, and the long white robe of the British Prime Minister draped to his ankles. He imitated Jack's gesture, and bowed the same.

"Your Eminence." The man glanced to his butler. "Leave us, Liam."

"Yes, Your Excellency." Then, the butler was gone, and the double doors closed. Secrecy was now ensured.

The red-haired man retreated back behind his desk. "It's been quite the while, has it not, Vessalius?"

Jack smiled to himself; it was good to have friends in high places, even before they were in said places. Jack had helped the Prime Minister get his position; now was the time for him to return the favor. In such dealings, things like honorifics and pleasantries were things to be bypassed, left outside the doors like Gilbert and Liam.

"It has," said Jack, seating himself in the seat opposite the Prime Minister's. "But things like time never got in your way, did they, Rufus?"

Rufus Barma chortled, sinking down into his own chair once more. "These past years? No, they haven't. The same goes for you; your position holds well, for all the chaos surrounding France these days."

"The king trusts me."

"The biggest mistake he's made in his life," Barma deadpanned, not even batting an eye at the straight insult to France's Cardinal. Jack laughed.

No, no pleasantries whatsoever.

"But that is not why you are here, is it? Not really." Barma tilted his head to the side, pinching his pointed chin between a thumb and forefinger.

Jack offered the man an off-setting smile. "And why would you say that?"

"France on the brink of war, on the brink of collapse, even. The Church stands strong, but what can the Church do in the military field? Men of the Cloth are men of peace, men who oppose fighting at all fronts."

Oh, here he went… Barma had an obsession with knowledge. Everyone who knew him knew this, and Jack should have known better than to ask. When given the opportunity, Barma never missed the chance to boast. And when he got going, the man had a nasty habit of pacing. Which, as Jack guessed, he then stood to do.

"Your country is led by a weak-willed boy of 18 whose more concerned with the latest fashions than with the security of his own country, and you come here to supposedly seek peace with the king of the greatest empire on God's good Earth, a knave who is everything that the French Church would like to avoid, one who cannot choose a side in the religious conflict, declares himself as sovereign, bypasses ancient tradition, rules according to the laws of Divine Right, and seeks only for his own personal pleasure in the long run."

Jack smirked. "These are treacherous words you speak, Your Excellency."

Barma gave him a sly, sidelong look. "These are treacherous times in which we live, Your Eminence."

"Spoken like a true politician." Jack steepled his fingers, resting the side of his index fingers against his chin. "It's a wonder you don't leave your office to pursue a duchy."

Pausing, Barma stared long and hard at Jack, a stare which Jack returned. He would not cower under that gaze, as others did; no, the English Prime Minister did not scare him. Jack feared no one.

"You did not answer my question," Barma finally said, coming back to sit in his chair; obviously, he was done ranting for the moment. "You are not here for the peace treaty, are you? Not anymore."

"I am sure your courtier has already told you."

Barma smiled; Jack had guessed his game. "Your son has been kidnapped. By the Baskerville pirates, no less. A surprising turn of events, to be sure."

A frown creased Jack's brow, though he managed to keep smiling. "Who said anything about the Baskervilles?"

"You told my courtier that they crippled your ship, and took your son. You did not say they took other spoils, which can only mean that they took nothing else. What pirates would have more interest in you and your ship than pillaging the gifts you brought for King James? What pirates would leave the valuables, and take your son instead? Only one with a personal vendetta against you, Jack Vessalius, and there is only one pirate crew out there in existence with such a vendetta: the Baskervilles." Barma shrugged ungracefully. "Wasn't all that difficult to figure out, really."

"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect, but I'm not here to mince words, Barma." Jack grew tired of the Prime Minister's games. "I want my son back; what can you do for me? You're the most influential man in England, probably in all of Europe. You know just about everything there is to know about… well, everything. Tell me what can be done."

Barma, leaning forward, propped his elbows on his desk, and gave Jack an even slyer look. "There is only one thing to be done. Do you know how to catch a pirate, Jack Vessalius?"

Jack just glared at him in prompt to continue. At the moment, he wasn't one for guessing games.

"With a pirate." Barma chuckled to himself. "I know a man – a Frenchman, in fact – who was once one of the sea's deadliest. Now, he works for the highest bidder, who, for the last five years, has been the British government."

"Meaning, specifically, you," said Jack, and Barma nodded.

"Specifically speaking. But that's not the point. I'm sure, with your generous influence, you could work out a bargain with him."

Now it was Jack's turn to look sly. He knew Barma's game. "You mean with you."

"You catch on quite fast, Your Eminence. Shall we talk arrangements for payment?"

* * *

"You read Holy Knight, too!?" Oz bounded over, and slide to a stop beside his young pirate friend, holding the blue volume between them, hands shaking with enthusiasm. Leo blinked in surprise, startled from a conversation with Elliot, but then slowly nodded.

"Yes, I do…"

"Wow, what a coincidence!" Oz was bubbling with excitement, unable to contain his broad grin. "Me, too! I think the series is awesome!"

Leo glanced at Elliot, who cocked a brow. "Okay, then…"

Oz bounced on his heels, clutching the book close; it was the latest edition! Three whole volumes ahead of the last one Oz read and owned! As soon as they basked in their mutual fandom of the epic saga that was Holy Knight, he had to ask Leo where he got it!

"My favorite character has to be the servant of the holy knight, himself!"

"You mean Edgar?" There was tension in Elliot's voice, but Oz chose to ignore it. He nodded, proud of his favorite character.

"Yeah, Edgar! He's _so _honorable! He's brave, selfless, he didn't mind having to sacrifice of himself for those he cared about; and all the other readers love him! And no wonder; he's the most admirable of them all!" Edgar, the servant of the holy knight, Edgar, the loyal one! Edgar, the women's favorite, Edgar, the true friend, Edgar-

"Tch."

Oz cut himself off, and looked straight to Elliot, who had folded his arms and leaned back with that same authoritative aura that Oz was beginning to associate with the young buccaneer.

"'Tch,' what? What's the 'tch' for?" he asked, to which Elliot just shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Nothing."

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't go 'tch'!"

Leo frowned at Elliot, but the latter just shook his head. "Just saying, it's too bad you like Edgar so much."

Oz frowned, bewildered. Too bad? Too bad!? What was that supposed to mean? "Too bad?"

"Personally, I think Edgar's a worthless no-good. I can't stand him."

…

Did he really just say that? No, he couldn't have. Really, he couldn't have… Oz didn't believe it.

"He's really nothing more than a self-centered jack-donkey's hind end, if you catch my meaning."

No. Way.

"Not to mention, suicidal. And the fact that he has so many fans like you is ridiculous."

Oz clutched the book, knuckles white, and glared at the sandy-haired boy. "What is wrong with you!? I just told you that he was my favorite character!"

If he didn't know better, Oz woulda sworn he saw a smirk ghost over Elliot's face, but it was gone before he could be sure. The nerve of this guy!

"His final scene was the worst, though!"

Oz choked on his breath. Final scene!? FINAL SCENE!? WHAT DID HE MEAN, FINAL SCENE!?

"He had no problem just throwing his life away for his master! He died to satisfy himself! What is so great about that guy that everyone fawns all over him!?"

Oz slumped to his knees, still holding the book against his chest. He ran his fingers along the beautiful pages, the painted parchment edges that glittered so nicely in the high sea sun. It couldn't be true… It couldn't be true! No, he didn't-wouldn't believe it!

"What's your problem?" came Elliot's voice, and Oz could barely hear him.

Edgar.

Edgar.

"Edgar… My favorite character… Is… Dead?"

Elliot gave a dry laugh. "You didn't know that? He died two volumes ago."

WHAT.

Oz leapt to his feet, shoved the book into Leo's hands, and grabbed a fistful of Elliot's collar. "What!? How could you! You just spoiled that volume for me!"

With a scowl and clenched teeth, Elliot clamped his fists around Oz's wrists and wrenched them away from him, shoving Oz backward hard. Oz stumbled, feet scuffing on the hardwood of the ship's deck. But the glare never left Oz's face, and Elliot reciprocated the expression.

"Well, for such a big fan, shouldn't you have read it by now!?" said the buccaneer, striding forward with confidence, while Oz just gritted his teeth and pointed an accusatory finger at Elliot's face.

"No! Do you know how hard it is to get these books!? It took my father's title to get them as soon as was possible, and that still was weeks – months! – after they were completed and copied! Why would you even _assume_ that I read them!?" Oz growled, grabbing handfuls of his hair and stomping his foot. "Hang it all!"

"What should I care? It's your own fault for _not _reading them, so don't blame me!" Elliot yelled right back in his face.

"You… You… Bilge rat!"

_Shing. _Oz found the point of a black-bladed rapier pointed at his nose. Elliot stood behind it, arm straight and rigid, and face hard like cast iron. His lip twitched, while Oz had gone pale and rigid.

Elliot narrowed his eyes. "Say that again. I dare you."

* * *

**A/N: One of my favorite chapters to write thus far. :3 I hope I'm getting everyone in character, and I hope those who have followed/favorited are enjoying it!**

**~Penelope**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"You can't kill me; you wouldn't dare!" Oz said defiantly, staring right down the blade at Elliot's stern face, despite the trembling he felt in his hands. He didn't know this boy; he didn't know what the buccaneer was capable of. He had no idea what Elliot could do.

But he could bluff, couldn't he?

"C-Cause if you did, then Captain Glen would kill _you_!" Oz lifted his chin to emphasize his proud point. Elliot clenched his teeth.

"Maybe I'd consider it well worth it, you little loud-mouthed brat," the buccaneer spat, but the black rapier lowered slightly. Inwardly, Oz grinned in triumph.

"Loud-mouthed brat?" Oz repeated, gaining confidence. "Look who's talking!"

Elliot's upper lip twitched toward a full blown snarl, and he took a few steps back before he glanced to Leo, who'd been simply watching in amusement. Elliot raised the point of the sword to gesture at Leo's belt. "Give him your sword."

Leo raised his eyebrows at his former master. "What? You're joking!"

Elliot narrowed his eyes even further. "Do I look like I'm joking!? Just give him the stupid sword!"

"Elliot, don't do this; not now. Seriously?" Leo groaned in exasperation, yet still, he unsheathed his own cutlass and held the hilt toward Oz, who stared at it blankly.

…Leo wasn't actually going to make him use it, was he?

"Take it, you little shrimp! We're going to settle this like men." Elliot planted his feet shoulder-width apart, and held his sword out in front of him, ready to begin the duel he had just waged.

Oz stared first at him, then at the sword Leo offered, then at Leo, and then began the cycle all over again. Leo gave him a helpless shrug.

"He's challenged you to a fair duel; etiquette demands you respond accordingly – meaning, you have to."

"Uhhh…" Oz lifted a hand to take the sword even while he hesitated, protested. "You must have learned a different code of etiquette…" The cutlass' hilt was cold, unfamiliar in his grasp, and as soon as Leo let go, the tip of the blade swung to clang on the deck. Oz grunted; it was heavier than he thought it'd be. He gazed down at the thick, curved blade of the cutlass, and then at the thin, delicate blade of the black rapier, and frowned in confusion.

Elliot planned to duel him… with that sword… against this heavy thing? Oz scoffed, which only made Elliot scowl harder.

"What?"

Oz shook his head, steadying the cutlass in his grasp and lifting the point again, albeit with a waver to his hand. "Nothing…"

"You don't scoff for nothing!"

"I just don't think it's a fair fight," Oz said with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant in his stalling. He really, really didn't want to fence against this guy…

Elliot didn't seem surprised, and gestured at him with his black blade. "Exactly; that's why I let you have the bigger sword."

Oz blinked.

"…What?" Now he was really confused. His sword sagged again.

Elliot rolled his eyes. "Enough dawdling! I want to pound you into the deck already!" He turned his body to the side, so that the line of his shoulders was perpendicular to Oz, and held up his arm rigid and straight in challenge, the sword not wavering an inch. "_En garde!"_

The black blade came down so fast, Oz barely had the chance to jump backward, the cutlass flailing in his grasp. A squeak escaped him, and Elliot snickered.

"Seriously, I don't know the first thing about swordfighting!" Oz said frantically, hoping to keep the other boy from pursuing this silly duel. "Really, I don't! I'm the son of the Cardinal; we're not… militarily-minded!"

"Don't have to be militarily-minded to know how to fence," Elliot said in a low, sinister voice, as if he already knew that he would win. Oz scrambled for something to dispel the tension and hopefully, get him out of this mess.

"But I _don't _know how to fence! That's my point!"

Elliot half-grinned. "Well, that should make it even more interesting." He swung his blade again and Oz clumsily lifted his, only to find the cutlass flying from his hand and skittering across the deck to wedge against a pair of barrels. For a moment, Oz just stared at it, feeling the emptiness in his hand, and then he glanced at Elliot, who actually looked rather disappointed.

The older boy sighed, shoulders sagging along with his sword, and trudged over to retrieve the cutlass. He hooked it with his foot and kicked it upward into his hand before he tossed it to Oz. With a gasp, Oz jumped away from its trajectory to avoid being hit by the flying blade, and watched it pass him and slide to a stop on the wood planks of the deck.

Elliot groaned. "It's not a snake, you lily-livered swab! Pick it up!"

Well, at least he wasn't using worse words. Still, Oz glowered at him, but bent to pick up the cutlass.

"Your form is all wrong," Elliot continued, stepping closer. "Look – if you're fighting with your right hand, then your right foot should always lead. You lunge with it, you shuffle it first – it's always first. Your left will follow, but your right will do more. And always, always keep your blade up, unless you're blocking or parrying or something. Got it?"

Oz blinked rather dazedly at him a moment, but shook himself aware and nodded before Elliot could get perturbed at him further for looking so stupid. Why on earth was Elliot teaching him if he wanted to win?

"Good," Elliot said with a nod, and readied his blade again. "You lunge first this time."

Oz glanced sidelong, and found that several of the other pirates were watching, Leo and the captain included, with amused grins. Some murmured to themselves; probably betting on Elliot. He sighed, and lifted the cutlass, steadied it, and then struck out at Elliot, leading with his right foot.

With a jolt, his strike was parried, and he felt a sharp _whap _on his ribs for his trouble. He gritted his teeth, clasping his side with his free hand even while he stumbled to the side, where his sword had practically dragged him.

"Blimey, you really are bad at this," Elliot said with a smirk, letting his blade rest leisurely on his shoulder as he leaned his weight on his heels. Oz glared at him.

"Yes, I am! Can I be done now?"

Elliot seemed to actually consider this, though he sighed, but before he could answer, a call came from the crow's nest.

"Island ho!"

"Drop anchor off the delta," Captain Glen called to his crew. "We'll take some crates and men to shore and replenish our stocks."

Oz jumped, startled from his staring up, trying to see past the sails to the nest, when Leo snatched the cutlass from him. Oz whirled about in time to see the noire sheath the blade, and cast one last meaningful look at Elliot before he sighed.

"Where are we?" Oz asked before Leo could say anything.

"Some call it Crossbone's Hold – supposedly, no seaman, pirate or no, has sailed close to it and lived to tell the tale." Elliot shrugged, ignoring Leo's second sharp look for interrupting him.

Oz was confused. "But… we're here."

"Exactly."

"It's just because we've made friends with the landowners," Leo said, moving toward where his father was directing some of the other crewmen to load near-empty crates into a dingy. Oz frowned harder; landowners? He whirled on his heel, scurrying to keep up with Leo.

"Wait, what? Landowners?"

"Aye – some of us, _more _than friends, yeah?" Leo looked over Oz's shoulder at Elliot.

"Shut up!" the Nightray spat as Oz glanced at him. Oz really couldn't believe what he was seeing; was the proud ex-noble turning red? He had to snicker.

"So, who are these landowners who've garnered so much affection among you?" Oz said to Leo, who mirrored his grin.

"Oh… You'll meet them. Soon enough."

Oz was very much looking forward to that. Who could it be that had Elliot Nightray flustered at a mere allusion?

* * *

Gilbert ducked into the tavern, and straightaway, again wished that the Cardinal could have come himself, instead of sending him to do the dirty work. The air was rank with the smell of day-old tobacco smoke, rum-soaked wood, and sweat. He shuddered, feeling his stomach churn, and tugged his hood lower over his face, as if it would protect him from the insufferable stench.

He hurried to stride past the tables and the bar, though several of the inns occupants looked up from their grogs and raucous laughter to stare at him as he passed. A barmaid or two shifted a sultry glance in his direction, and he closed his eyes to shut them out. Why couldn't people read minds? Then perhaps they would know that he was not here for useless purposes like self-indulgence and pleasure, as they were. He was here for one reason, and one reason only.

The Cardinal said there was a man here. A man who could and would help them find young Master Oz. The one who was like a little brother to him. The one who had been kidnapped by the very people he had wished to never see again.

Approaching the bartender, Gilbert spoke in a hushed voice. "I'm looking for a man – a certain Xerxes Break?"

The entire room went deathly silent. Gilbert, eyes wide, glanced over his shoulder. How on earth had they heard him? He'd been whispering for land sakes! He turned back to the bartender only to find the man eyeing him with wide eyes, face gone pale. In turn, Gilbert wondered if he perhaps he should be as concerned as they all were; he felt his own countenance drain of color, and he swallowed impulsively.

The bartender lowered his voice even quieter than Gilbert had, and said in a voice that trembled ever so slightly, "Up those stairs, to the left, the last door in the hall. Knock twice, tap once with each finger on your right hand, tap your left heel once, and then knock three times."

He had to be jesting. Gilbert frowned, but slowly turned toward the stairs anyway, even as a murmuring went through the tavern's occupants before they all went back to their previous engagements.

What was that all about?

He ascended the stairs, and turned to the left, spotting the door at the very end of the hallway and making for it with haste. But as he came to it, his thoughts fled with him and with them went his confidence. What was he to say? He was never good at negotiating; surely, this used-to-be pirate would try and swindle him before he even stated his reason for being there! How was he supposed to knock? Three times, once with each finger, something about his left heel… What would happen if he got it wrong? Taking a steeling breath, he just knocked on the door; just get it over with quickly!

For a moment, there was only silence on the other side. Suddenly…

"That's not the secret knock!" came a loud, merry voice from behind the door, and Gilbert straightened, eyebrow arching though no one could see him.

Well, that was certainly not the response he expected. But now he had to remember that knock…

He knocked three times.

"Nope!"

Three times, then… stomping his left foot? He felt silly…

"Wrong again! What's the matter with you? Tanner told you what to do!"

Tanner… Ah; the bartender, no doubt. What was it, what was it…

There came a sigh from behind the door. "Knock twice…"

Gilbert let his shoulders sag with relief; the man was going to aid him, whoever he was. He knocked twice.

"Tap once with each finger on your right hand…"

Gilbert did as he was told.

"Click your left heel."

Did so.

"And knock three times."

As soon as the final knock was sounded, a lock unbolted. After only a moment of hesitation, Gilbert put his hand to the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

The room beyond was rather simplistic. Obviously a meeting room, for no self-respecting pirate, retired or not, would live in such an empty space. Pirates were proud, flamboyant people. The only pieces of furniture were a few wooden chairs, a cot and bureau in the corner, and a large mahogany desk at the center. But it wasn't really the desk that drew Gilbert's attention as much as what was on it. Or, more specifically, _who_ was on it.

A thin man, pale as the moon with shoulder-length hair just as white, sprawled on the desk's top on his back, kicking one foot into the air. He donned a purple shirt mostly hidden by an extravagant white coat embellished by gold, silver, black, purple, and red embroidery, black breeches tucked into tall white boots that matched said coat. He let one hand hang over the desk's edge while with the other, he dropped a small golden morsel into his mouth. From where Gilbert stood, he couldn't see the stranger's eyes, for a fringe of his ivory hair shrouded them from view. On the corner of the chair behind the desk hung a black captain's hat wrapped in purple ribbons and adorned in white, violet, and crimson plumes.

"Took you long enough," the man said, in the same blithe voice as before. Gilbert stared at him in disbelief; surely, this wasn't the man he sought! There had to be some mistake; perhaps this man was only a decorated servant, as Gilbert was. Yes, that was it!

"Well, don't just stand there gawking! I know I'm good-looking, but don't we have business to discuss? Barma told me it was important."

Oh, dear…

Gilbert stuttered. "U-Uhh, yes… I'm looking for Xerxes Break?" He had to be sure. Please, he hoped to hope, be someone else…

"Well, who did you think you were talking to?" The man sat up, scooting to the edge of the desk to spread his arms with flair. Now, from this new angle, Gilbert saw that the man sported blood-red eyes. Or, at least, that's what he could tell from the one eye he could see. The other was still hidden behind that fringe of white. "It is I, the one and only Xerxes Break! Call me Break. How may I be of service?"

Oh, for goodness sake, this couldn't be happening to him. How on earth was this clown going to help them find Oz? Gilbert groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Something tells me you already know."

"Smart man! Smarter than you look. Yes, I know all about the Cardinal's little kidnapped brat and that I'm supposed to hunt down the notorious, uncatchable Baskerville pirates among leagues of endless seas just to find him, and bring him home safe and sound without a scratch. Am I forgetting anything?"

_Only that I really don't want to be here_. Gilbert glared at the man, this impudent man who dared mock their dire situation. Oz's life could be in danger! "Only that the Honorable Prime Minister has agreed to supply you with a crew of your choice, so long as it includes his servant, Liam Lunettes, myself, and a trip home to France for my master."

"Ah, yes, his Excellency, Cardinal Jack Vessalius!" Xerxes Break leaned back on one hand, producing another morsel from nowhere – what was he eating!? – and popping it into his mouth.

Gilbert stared. Was this man mad?

"They have promised a reward?" Break continued, words muffled through whatever it was in his mouth.

Nodding, Gilbert watched the ex-pirate carefully. His distrust of this strange person was mounting by the second. "Yes… So long as you deliver your end of the bargain."

"Which, coming from Barma, is more or less liable to change in certain courses of events. Right!" Break jumped off the desk like an eager schoolboy and spun a quick circle before bounding behind the desk to snatch the hat off its resting place. "I'll take the job; when are we to leave?"

Blink, blink. Gilbert didn't answer a long moment. Just like that? No disputes, no negotiating payment, no… nothing?

"Hello?"

Gilbert shook himself from his musing. "Ah… as soon as we're able."

"Hasty, then, aren't we? Very well! Let's be off, and gather the crew!" Break snatched up a cane from behind the desk and then moved around the desk, aiming past Gilbert for the door. Gilbert startled.

"What? They're here? In Portsmouth?" He eyed the white-haired sailor. "Awful convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"Why do you think they stay here, silly boy?" Break snickered, placing a hand on the doorknob, ready to close it behind them. "They're here at my beck and call! Some stay because they like the scenery, others, because it's the easiest place to stay in order to afford quick trips back to France. Either way, they stay, and thus, it is convenient! Now, come on; you really do talk too much."

Oh, be serious… Gilbert scowled and sighed heavily before he strode out the door. Break quickly closed the door, and darted beside him.

"What was your name, again?"

Gilbert avoided looking at the other man, who he now realized was a good few inches shorter than himself. "I never said."

"Well, I've told you mine! Wouldn't you think it polite to tell me yours?"

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before he answered. "Gilbert, sir."

Break grinned and patted his shoulder. "I'll call you Raven."

"What!? Why?" Gilbert whirled to face the strange man, who simply laughed.

"Because! Ravens are dark and brooding and mysterious and oftentimes come bearing ill news. And you, my friend, fit under all those categories!" Patting him once more on the back, Break then pranced down the remaining length of the hall, leaving Gilbert stuttering.

"B-But… is it your habit to rename people as you see fit?"

"No! Just you!" The bounty hunter laughed jovially, disappearing round the corner down the stairs. "Come along, Raven!"

Gilbert hurried after him. "It's Gilbert… Break. There; I called you what _you_ asked me to."

"Whatever you say, Raven!"

* * *

**A/N: Huzzah! Another fun chapter to write. :3 We drop anchor at the Baskerville's island, and meet the 'one and only' Xerxes Break! XP Let me know what you think so far; how are the parallels? What do you think is going to happen in future chapters? Is anyone OOC? Leave a review! Leo'll give you his pirate hat!**

**Leo: I will? O_o**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. :) But this chapter gets things moving a little more, so I hope the wait was worth it. Again, reviews are muchly appreciated. Reviews let me know that people are enjoying the story, or want more, or see an area in which it could be improved. Thus, reviews encourage me to keep writing, and writing quickly. Which means, faster updates. XP Get the idea?**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think of how I'm incorporating canon points into the story.**

**~Penelope**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Oz never did find out what made Elliot Nightray blush so hard. The pirates restocked their ship from the abundance of the island, and then set sail once more for France. Oz, of course, came along. He got his own hammock with the rest of the crew. Captain Glen seemed to consider him smart enough not to try and jump ship. Which was more than anyone could say about Elliot. The young buccaneer had the bunk above Oz's, and always kept a close eye on him. Oz got up to relieve himself once, and almost got his throat slit by an ebony rapier.

That guy was touchy.

Oz learned a lot, though, during the long days before they reached European soil. He learned that Lily loved dogs because she once had one named Bandersnatch before he drowned on her first day at sea. A bad storm blew in, and the dog was swept overboard. She never saw the animal again, and never got another.

Lottie cared for Captain Glen. A lot. Oz would even daresay she loved the man. Just never to her face. That woman could be downright sadistic when she wanted to be. Whenever she wanted to irk Elliot, she sidled up to him and pressed close until he blushed. Then, when her lips were inches from his face, she'd whip out her knife and drag it along his jaw without cutting him, threatening all sorts of things, claiming that if she ever got bored, she'd love to make him squeal.

She never ceased to make Oz shiver, so he stayed out of her way.

He also learned that Leo and Elliot were practically like brothers, despite coming from totally different families and backgrounds. The two were rarely apart, sometimes fencing, sometimes reading, sometimes swapping legendary tales with the other sailors. Leo never lost his head while Elliot was around, except on one occasion.

Oz didn't hear what they were talking about, but whatever it was, in the shadows of dusk, it had them both on edge. Through Leo's chamber's door, Oz listened as their voices rose louder and louder in anger until something heavy clattered on the floor, and all went silent. He hurried back to his hammock and pretended to be asleep just in time to watch through cracked eyelids as Leo shoved Elliot through the door and slammed it behind him. The Nightray had growled unintelligible things to himself and stormed back onto the deck.

In the morning, Leo had a brooding aura about him that Oz had never seen before, and Elliot wouldn't even look at the young Baskerville heir, so he didn't bother to ask what it had all been about.

He didn't get another chance, either. The next morning, they docked in Chef de Caur, the port a mere hour's carriage drive from Oz's family estate. He stared at the busy seaside market and quaint townhouses in awe, wondering how on earth the captain had known where to port.

He heard the captain come onto the deck, and turned with the intent of asking that very question. But the sight of Glen in a dull brown hood instead of his crimson one caught him off guard instead. Glen approached, and tossed another brown cloak to him. Oz caught it clumsily.

"Put it on," said Glen curtly, pulling his deep hood over his head. "We want to attract as little attention as possible."

"Who's coming on shore?" Oz asked as he clasped the cloak over his shoulders.

"Just you, Leo, and I. Ready?"

He nodded, pulling his hood up. Leo came up behind the captain with a similar dull cloak and hood shadowing his face. The others, Oz noticed, had shed their crimson cloaks in order to simply look like another crew. One of them set out the gangplank, and Glen stepped onto it, leading the way off the ship and onto the dock.

Oz's knees wobbled a bit once he was back on solid ground. It had been a long voyage; he wasn't used to such lengthy spans at sea.

Then, he began to wonder if he ever would be. Considering the pirates were taking him back home, now. As soon as his father returned, he'd more than likely never get to go on a voyage again. He'd be kept under lock and key, to avoid any chance of ever being kidnapped again. And there was no way Oz could defend Glen, even though he knew that the strange pirate meant him no harm. Fifteen was not too old to be tried for treason against the French crown.

Captain Glen maneuvered the port city streets like he'd been there a dozen or more times. They bypassed all the shops and businesses without even hesitating. Leo kept glancing around curiously; perhaps all of this was new to him. Nevertheless, Glen knew where he was going.

They reached the outskirts in less than an hour, walking briskly into the countryside. He chose all the correct roads that eventually took them to the grand manor that was the Vessalius house. Beyond a pair of wrought iron gates and a manicured courtyard, the mansion loomed high and imposing with its teal-colored trimming and dark brick walls. Smoke wreathed out of the chimneys, and a gardener was the first to spot them approaching from the gates, up the gravel drive. They drew closer, and Oz recognized the old man as Timothy, the head yard tender.

"Good morning," Timothy said warily, eyeing them. Oz ducked his head to avoid being noticed. "You have business with the Cardinal?"

"Her Ladyship, actually," muttered Glen. "We are old acquaintances."

Timothy seemed to wait for further explanation, but when none came, he nodded after a brief hesitation and motioned for them to follow. They climbed the front steps, and Oz felt a wave of home sickness hit him in a quite delayed reaction. For a little while, he had wondered if he'd ever get back home.

But now, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be just yet.

The gardener led them through the large mahogany double doors into the great foyer just inside. Glen didn't remove his hood, so neither did Leo or Oz. Timothy kept glancing at them, but nodded at them.

"I'll fetch Her Ladyship myself," said the old man before bustling off to do just that.

They waited in the foyer for a few moments of silence. Glen and Leo shed their scabbards and hoods, putting them on the hooks behind the door. Then, Leo turned to Oz with wide eyes.

"You live _here_?" he said in awe, surprising Oz at the suddenly childishness of his voice.

Oz nodded. "Yeah."

"It's a castle!"

"Well, not quite," Oz said, chuckling quietly, glancing around. He supposed it was rather big, though. "It seems a lot smaller sometimes."

"I don't usually get off the ship on the mainlands. Father makes me stay behind; as a precaution, you understand."

"Yes, I do." Oz frowned. "So, you've never seen France?"

"Glimpses. From the ship, of course." Leo glanced about the foyer. "Never this close. I was surprised Father let me come this time."

A woman gasped from the staircase ahead of them, and Oz knew who it was before he even looked up. He was tempted to run straight into his mother's arms right that moment! No doubt his father had sent word of his abduction and had her worried sick.

The raven-haired woman descended the stairs in a flurry, but approached them hesitantly, staring at Glen with a dazed look in her crimson eyes. The two stared at one another for the longest time; Oz and Leo exchanged confused looks, before the woman beckoned them with her hand.

"Come into the parlor, please," she muttered, hurrying through a pair of doors to their left. Glen followed, with Oz and Leo in tow. They got into the room, and his mother shut the doors behind them with a hollow thunk.

She whirled around, and threw her arms around Glen's neck. "Oswald!" she cried. "Oh, Oswald! Oh, Ozzie…"

Oswald? Oz raised a brow, even more confused than before.

Glen smiled broader than Oz had ever seen him and returned her embrace. "Lacie…"

Lacie Vessalius squeezed him tight, before she let go and stepped back, staring into Glen's face with a look of questioning and concern. "What happened to you? Where have you been? Why haven't you sent word? When did you-"

Glen chuckled, and gestured to Oz. "I came to return something I believe belongs to you."

Tentatively, Oz reached up and lowered his hood, causing his mother to gasp. She rushed forward, and enveloped him in her arms. "Oz!"

A smile tugged at his lips as he wrapped his arms around his mother's torso, nestling in her warm embrace. No matter what was going on, he always felt safe with his mother. Of all people, he knew that he could trust her.

He felt her warm hands on his face, cupping his chin and tilting his head up for her to examine his face. It was probably a bit dirty and sunburnt, but none worse for wear. He smiled up at her to reassure her, but her eyes held that same concern as before.

"What happened?" she demanded, looking between Oz and Glen. "Jack told me-"

"One of ours stowed away on his ship," Glen explained calmly. "They were going to hang him in England; we rescued him. Taking Oz was simply an accident."

"You can't kidnap a child by accident." Lacie was glaring, now.

Glen wasn't fazed. "We had to use him to escape Jack; he would have destroyed our ship in a moment if we had let him go aboard the _Grace_. We never intended to harm him in any way, and I made straight for France the moment we were out of Jack's range."

For a moment, Lacie looked ready to argue further. But then, she sighed, and drew Oz close to her again.

For one awkward moment, Oz stood stiffly in her hold. He opened his mouth to speak, but Leo beat him to it.

"Can someone explain what's going on, here?" said the bespectacled boy, glancing between the two adults.

Lacie raised her eyebrows, finally stepping away from Oz and closer to Leo. She studied his face, and then reached up. She hesitated, as if realizing what she was doing.

"May I?" she muttered. Oz wasn't sure what she was asking to do, but Leo seemed to get the idea, because he nodded. Oz found out soon enough when Lacie gently took his glasses between her fingers, and lifted them from his pale face. Her lips parted with a silent gasp as she took in Leo's face, then, and she trailed her fingers across his forehead, brushing the ebony bangs away from his eyes.

"Leo?" she whispered, as though surprised.

Leo nodded slowly, looking as confused as Oz felt. Lacie laughed, to herself really, and gently clasped the noire's face between her hands, grinning. "Oh, look at you… You've grown so tall and handsome!"

Leo blinked in the same owlish manner Oz knew him for. "I'm… sorry. You are…?"

"Leo, this is Lacie – my sister, your aunt," Glen said.

Oz jerked his gaze to the man, eyes wide. Did he just say sister?

Leo shared his surprise, and he stared up at Lacie with the same look of shock. Lacie just grinned, and pulled him into a brief hug. Leo hesitantly returned it, probably still trying to grasp what had just been told to him.

Oz could guess so, because that's what he was doing. His mother was Glen's sister? Glen was his uncle? Leo was his cousin? Alice was… Aw. Oz sagged. That sucked.

"Father… you never said anything about… this." Leo cast Glen a very pointed look after Lacie returned his spectacles.

Glen didn't even flinch. "It was never important."

"Never important?" Leo ducked out of Lacie's embrace, and marched up to look his father in the eye. "Never important!? It was never important to tell me that my aunt was married to the very man who put the price on our heads!? The man who is the reason why we can't live in places like this?"

That made the room go silent. Oz shifted his weight, not feeling so lucky to witness one of Leo's infrequent bouts of temper.

Lacie broke the silence with a whap to both Baskervilles' heads. "No! Not now, not in my house. Now, you shall stay for dinner." She smiled as both of them rubbed their scalps. "But then, you'll have to be on your way. The servants will talk, and we can't give them any reports to give my husband when he returns."

So Oz then had his first supper with the uncle and cousin he never knew about. Of course, they'd had suppers on the ship, but he hadn't known they were family, then. So that made it different.

It was almost as if they weren't pirates with bounties on their heads. Like they were simply a family meeting once more after a long while, innocent and happy.

But things got serious once more as soon as supper was over, and Glen stood with a somber expression.

"We should return to the ship," he said quietly, as his sister and son stood as well. Oz watched from his seat with a furrowed brow. "We've been gone longer than we intended already. Can't have the crew coming to search for us."

Lacie embraced her brother once more, sadness tainting her pretty features once again. "…Where will you go?"

"Back into British waters, most likely. Until the alliance goes through; then we may have to sail around to Italy, or Greece."

"So far…" She buried her face against Glen's shoulder. "Must you go?"

Glen looked more sympathetic than Oz had ever seen him. "You know we must. If they find us anywhere on French soil…"

They'd be killed. No questions asked. Oz swallowed, and prayed they wouldn't be caught on their way back to the docks.

Lacie hugged Leo next, stroking his dark hair like she did to Oz so often. "I am sorry you've been born into this life, Leo… One so young should have a hope for the future, not fear of being punished for false crimes."

False crimes?

Mother didn't believe Father? The idea hit Oz like a brick wall.

Leo squeezed his eyes shut, but managed to square his thin shoulders when Lacie let him go. He stood tall, looking more like his father than ever before as he gave his aunt a bold stare. "I don't fear them."

Lacie smiled, but said nothing as she patted his cheek, and then stepped aside when Glen beckoned Leo to follow him out of the dining hall and toward the foyer once more. Oz hurried to stand and follow them with his mother. They came to the door, and Lacie placed a hand on Oz's shoulder as the two Baskervilles exited after Glen grabbed his scabbard and the two put their hoods on. Oz picked at the lace cuff of the shirt he wore; the one Leo had leant to him.

What was going to happen now? Did they just expect things to go back to the way they were?

Oz left his mother's side to stand on the porch, waving goodbye to the two dark figures leaving the Vessalius grounds. The shorter one glanced back, and lifted a hand in return.

"Goodbye, Leo. Goodbye… Uncle Glen," Oz muttered, hand falling to his side once they passed through the gate on their way back to the city.

His mother placed a hand on his shoulder again. "Oz… I'm sorry I never told you. About Oswald."

Oz was quiet a long moment. "…You named me after him, didn't you?"

He could hear the smile in her answer. "Yes. I did."

"Father let you?"

"They weren't always enemies. They were once good friends before…"

Oz whirled around to face her, eyes stern. "Before what, Mother? What do you know about all of this?"

She looked ashamed, clasping her hands in front of her and lowering her head. "Very little… But enough to know that your father is not as innocent as he would like us to believe. I love your father, but I also know my brother. He never bore any ill-will toward King Louis in the slightest. I cannot believe that he would devise a plot against his life."

Mother didn't support Father's tales. But what could she do? If she chose to speak out, it would be her word against one of the most prestigious men in all of France. Besides, Mother wouldn't dare to incriminate her husband; she loved him too much. But who did she love more? Her brother, or Jack Vessalius? One day, she would have to choose.

So did Oz.

He glanced over his shoulder; he couldn't see the dark figures anymore. They had disappeared down the hill. Then he let his gaze return to his mother.

"Mother… I need to find out. I need to…" He hesitated. "…know what really happened. The truth of it."

Her eyes held a heavy sorrow, but still, a smile tilted one corner of her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around him. He returned her embrace, giving a somber smile himself; she knew.

She ruffled his hair, and kissed his forehead, taking his chin in her hand. "Oswald with take good care of you. Be careful."

"I promise, Mother. I'll get to the bottom of this." He planted a kiss on her cheek, and then stepped away, pulling his hood up.

"Oh!" Lacie suddenly disappeared into the house, reaching behind the door. She returned with a dark sheath in her hands. "Leo left this. Take it to him."

Oz smiled, and took the sheath, back down one step hesitantly. Lacie held on to his hand in both of hers, and gave it a squeeze before slowly letting go. Then, Oz turned away, and descended to the yard.

He was really going.

Taking a deep breath, he paused to gather himself. He was choosing to leave home, this time. He was going by his own will, to solve this mystery that had presented itself to him. He had no way of knowing how deep the conspiracy went, but he was determined to find out. He was determined to help Elliot Nightray and the Baskervilles, if they'd have him, to uncover the truth of the situation.

He let the breath out, and then began running. Across the yard, through the Vessalius gates, and out onto the road that led back to the city. He ran, and didn't slow; he had to catch them before they got too far.

In no time at all, the port sprawled out ahead of him, and he could see down the road at the outskirts, two familiar cloaks making their way deeper into the city. He hesitated at the crest of the hill, and then sprinted down its face, using the extra momentum to pick up his speed. Soon, he was a mere hundred yards from them.

"Wait!" he called, beginning to run out of breath. The figures halted, and he sighed in relief. They had heard.

He managed to keep running until he met them again. Leo looked at him in surprise, while Glen seemed impassive. Oz panted heavily. He opened his mouth to speak several times, only to gasp in breaths, doubling over until his lungs stopped their burning. Then, he straightened, and held out the scabbard in a rigid outstretched arm toward Leo.

"You forgot this," he breathed, then inhaled deeply again.

Leo blinked at the object, but took it, glancing at Oz's face. "Thanks…"

Then Oz looked at Glen. His uncle. Oz smiled. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get back to the ship!"

Glen didn't say anything. But he smiled back.

He knew.

Oz followed them through the city, back to the docks. The three kept their hoods up all the way to the ship. To their surprise, Lotti was waiting for them on the gangplank. She paused in her pacing, and descended toward them.

Glen opened his mouth to speak, but Lotti spoke first. "The Nightray bolted."

"What!?" both Glen and Leo blurted.

Lotti looked somewhere between grim and irritated. "Don't know where he went. One minute he was on deck, the next, we've turned the whole ship inside out looking for him. He vanished."

Leo raked his fingers through his hair, gripping it tightly. He clenched his jaw, but Oz saw the outburst welling up anyway. Finally, Leo stomped a foot on the boardwalk, and threw his loose scabbard to the dock just for the sake of throwing something. It struck the boards with a thunk, and skittered a few feet away.

"ELLIOT!"

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun DUH! The plot thickens. X3 Review?**


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